


The Path of Life

by RenGoneMad



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Author's Favorite, But Tenzo Can Help, Cellist!Tenzo, Composer!Kakashi, First Meetings, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hatake Kakashi Has Issues, Light Angst, M/M, POV Hatake Kakashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25843975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenGoneMad/pseuds/RenGoneMad
Summary: Kakashi had loved this piece once, in the hateful way that all artists love their first creations. He loved it in the way that a smoker loved her last cigarette. In the way that a man loved a gravestone.To Kakashi, the ending had always been tragic. A plea for penance, but a recognition that it could never be fulfilled. The conclusion wasn’t so much a conclusion at all, but a gaping hole that petered out into a single note on the cello, leaving hollow gaps where the piano had once been. Where Rin had once been. Gaps that could never be filled.Tenzō’s ending was different.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi & Yamato | Tenzou, Hatake Kakashi/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 20
Kudos: 63





	The Path of Life

**Author's Note:**

> So, my spouse and I's six-year anniversary just occurred, and we met while I was studying as a music major in our University, so. That's basically the whole reason for this. This will probably be my least popular Naruto work yet, but I absolutely loved writing it. :)
> 
> I'm not gonna lie, this has... a crap ton of classical music terms. I'm putting scroll-over definitions for them and a glossary just before the end notes if anyone cares, but honestly, you can probably guess a decent amount even without those. And if you're a brand new musician, you can use this story as a cheat sheet. xD

At first, Kakashi wasn’t sure anyone had knocked at all. The thick padding on the practice room door muffled outside noises, and with deep bass chords vibrating every particle in Kakashi’s ears, the tapping was more a tug at his subconscious than a recognizable sound. Easy to ignore.

Until it came again. 

The fine hairs on the back of Kakashi’s neck prickled, and his fingers stilled on the ivories, letting off the damper pedal. The minorchord petered out, a diminished fourththat made Kakashi cringe to end on. Compulsively, he resolved to a first chord, just for posterity’s sake. 

Then he opened his eyes and glanced at the door. 

There, peering through the tiny window, were two huge, unblinking, pitch black eyes. 

Kakashi froze. 

For a second, they stared at each other, Kakashi’s heart beating a harsh staccato. The knock came again, two sharp raps. 

Slowly, Kakashi nodded his head. 

The handle turned and the door creaked open to reveal—not the horror-movie villain Kakashi half-expected—but a man no older than his early twenties, with rich hickory brown hair, a strong jawline, and big, dark eyes that looked far better within the context of pleasing facial features. 

“Excuse me.” His voice was pleasant, too, smooth and even like a well-played French Horn. “My accompanist is out sick for the week and Genma told me I could find someone in Room Seven. If you’re busy practicing, I can ask someone else.”

Yūgao had the flu, so she was probably his regular. Kakashi glanced at the staff paper in front of him, the forlorn pencil still sharp from lack of use. He had barely gotten in twenty-minutes and hadn’t even decided on a _time signature_ yet. 

Resigning himself to his fate as departmental go-to, Kakashi held out a hand. Tenzō stepped further into the room, shuffling a large case on his back and a green folder under one arm. Once he had a hand free, he clasped it with Kakashi’s. 

“Thank you. I’m Senju Tenzō.”

“As in Tsunade?” Kakashi hadn’t heard that the Chair of the Music Department had a relative in the university. He wondered if that wasn’t nepotism of some sort. 

“Distant cousins.” Tenzō said shortly.

Kakashi got the feeling people asked him that question a lot. 

Tenzō’s palm was warm and calloused, the tips of his fingers dragging roughly on Kakashi’s knuckles. The long fingers and short nails, combined with the vague shape of the case Kakashi could see from his seat on the piano bench, easily showed the man’s instrument of expertise. 

But a handshake wasn’t really what Kakashi had been looking for. He let go but kept his hand raised. Tenzō looked at it as if it had a mouth with which to speak. Kakashi’s skin tingled.

“Sheet music?” He prompted.

“Oh.” Tenzō blinked and shuffled his folder back to prominence. Rifling through it, he handed Kakashi a few loose-leaf pages. “Sorry for the short notice. Genma said you were good at sight-reading, but I know it’s a weird time-signature and key...” 

Tenzō’s voice trailed off, features blank, as Kakashi raked his hair back.

He presumed Tenzō was connecting ‘sight-reading’ with the useless, blood-red mess of his left eye, and finding the term wanting. 

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Relax.” Kakashi drawled dismissively. “You aren’t being pranked. I can read with one eye.” He turned said eye to the sheet music, immediately jumping to scan the title. 

Shit.

His heart kicked to doppio movimento and _‘what the hell’_ instantly became his brain’s favorite motif. 

He snorted, forcing levity. “Maa, I take that back. You are being pranked, just not in the way you think.” 

Tenzō raised an eyebrow. Kakashi took the title page and flipped it to face the man. He tapped the upper corner with his index finger, silently indicating the blocky font crediting the composer.

“Hatake Kakashi, at your service.”

None of the awkwardness that had occurred in the last two minutes had seemed to phase Tenzō in the least, but with that simple introduction, he gave an almost comical response. He rocked back on his heels, his eyes widened, and his cheeks pinkened, the blush spreading from both sides to intersect on his nose. 

There was a few seconds of silence. 

“Genma’s an asshole.” 

Kakashi barked a laugh. “You must be a freshman.”

“Sophomore, but I’m not a music major.” Tenzō shifted his weight between feet, averting his eyes to focus on the sheet music rather than Kakashi. “I’m just doing a minor for the scholarship.” 

“You’re doing the cello solo for _The Path of Life_ as a minor?” Kakashi was the one to raise an eyebrow this time, dubiously. It wasn’t a simple part, and Kakashi should know; he had written it. “What’s your major?”

“Biology, with a botany focus. I do work-study maintaining the greenhouses.” 

That explained the calluses on his palms, the dirt scuffing steel-toed boots, and the _arms_. Between the gray t-shirt that clung to broad shoulders and the rolled-up sleeves, Kakashi could see where all that manual labor went. Bow work wasn’t easy, but no cellist he knew had definition like that.

He had to drag his gaze forcefully up when Tenzō’s lips twitched into a smile. His blush had calmed into a subtle pink hue. 

“I guess you can play that without a problem then, huh?”

Kakashi turned back to the sheet music. “Maa, I’ll make it through somehow. Go ahead and set up.” Raising his hands to the keys, Kakashi fingered them silently while Tenzō pulled up the sole chair of the tiny space. 

Opening his case, Tenzō ran a finger against each string in turn, immediately starting major adjustments to the tuning.

“Who’s your Professor?” Kakashi asked as Tenzō plucked one of the center strings a few times, brows furrowing in concentration.

“Dr. Sarutobi. Can you give me a D3, please?”

Kakashi sustained the requested note while Tenzō fiddled, twisting the tuning knobs. It took an impressively short amount of time. He tightened and then applied rosin to his bow in long, deliberate strokes, arm flexing as he extended to reach the tip. Kakashi’s attention flickered between that and the melody he was supposed to be re-familiarizing himself with.

He had heard Dr. Saturobi was staying on as an adjunct for the low strings until the new professor started in the Fall, but he didn’t know many people in the strings section. Yūgao was a Piano Performance major with viola as a secondary, and Kakashi had met her boyfriend Hayate, a cellist, a few times. The only other one he could remember by name was Namiashi Raidō, who was particularly noticeable carrying a giant double-bass on his back. It was no wonder he hadn’t noticed Tenzō. As a Music Composition and Aerospace double-major, Kakashi had knocked out all the rudimentary courses years back, and minors didn’t give public performances until at least second year.

It also explained how Tenzō had gotten this particular sheet music. Kakashi had given Hiruzen permission years ago to use it for a graduating senior. He hadn’t thought it would ever go beyond Kurenai’s deft hands, but he should have.

Hiruzen should have told him.

Even as he thought it, Kakashi knew it was wrong, knew intellectually that the old man hadn’t technically betrayed his trust: his permission hadn’t been given in a specified limited case, and there were no legal issues of license. His pieces had been played by students before, and it wouldn’t surprise him if there was another person at the Spring Recital with a Hatake Kakashi piece. 

But those were published pieces. This one wasn’t. This one had only seen the light of day by grace of someone who knew the story behind the melody, who had been there when it all happened.

When Rin died.

This piece wasn’t meant to be shared.

And Tenzō was not Kurenai.

“Are you performing this for the Spring Recital?” 

Tenzō looked up, lips pinching into a slight frown. “Is that a problem?”

Kakashi swallowed. He stabbed his balloon of depression with a dagger and refilled it with helium, lightening his tone by sheer force of will. He wasn’t about to explain why it very much _was_. Deflection would be easiest. “No. It just means I’ll actually have to show up to the Recital this year.”

Ducking his head, Tenzō ran his finger along the strings again, a gentle hum of fifths emanating in perfect harmony. “I’m, uh, ready when you are.” 

_The Path of Life_ was a long piece, and it was the first month of the semester, but Tenzō hadn’t taken out sheet music of his own. He wasn’t angled to where he could see Kakashi’s, either, instead sitting off to the right (Kakashi’s good side, thankfully) and facing the pianist himself. Good for giving the accompanist cues; bad for actually playing the correct notes. 

Well, it would be apparent soon enough whether he had an exceptional gift of memory, or was full of more hot air than Kakashi was often said to be.

Taking a deep breath, Kakashi rested his hands in position, and closed his eyes. 

For the first time, Kakashi played Rin’s tribute without her framed photograph there to hear.

It was one of five pieces Kakashi had never published: one each for Obito, Rin, Kushina, Minato, and Sakumo. His father’s piece was unfinished—had been for over fifteen years, likely always would be—but it, too, would never leave the sanctity of his Steinway at home. 

In Kurenai’s hands, he had been glad _The Path of Life_ had. Rin would have wanted someone, her childhood friends, to bring it to life. She would have liked the way Kurenai played it.

She would have liked the way Tenzō did, too. 

The piece began in a major key, with sweet, indulgent chords and a high piano melody that rang like a bell. Only they soon grew too bright, too sudden, too loud, cutting clarion through the rest with unsettling keenness. 

The transition to wistful arpeggiations was subtle, with lingering notes and rolling chords, large sweeps across the keyboard, beckoning to the ambling waves of Impressionist pieces. Tenzō’s cello played a tender alto, each stroke of his bow a caress across the strings, a gentle tide. The piano’s undercurrent steadily grew while the cello remained the same, unchanging—joyful despite the turbulence building beneath the surface of the sea as chords came faster, stronger, notes of dissonance breaking the beautiful harmony.

Those ambling waves broke as they crashed into the unyielding storm. A dark, minor key Romantic theme subjugated the harmony, with harsh, grating notes and quick strokes in the lowest registers. Tenzō slashed across the strings, using only the bottom quarter of his bow in tight, powerful strikes that could have beaten down a castle door. 

Turmoil. Destruction. A tempest’s fury.

Guilt.

Kakashi had expected a technical performance; one in which the notes and rhythm were mostly intact but the articulation shook worse than marbles on a dryer. 

It didn’t.

It sounded like Tenzō had been walking _The Path of Life_ for years. 

Kakashi could have put it off to the naturally somber quality of Tenzō’s dark-wood cello, or his own sentimentality—but then again, he couldn’t. 

There was no way to technically explain the subtle melancholy that influenced the bright opening; the yearning that spoke of a happiness borne from willful ignorance rather than blissful naïvete; other than that it was Tenzō’s creation. His mark on the music, the player’s contribution to the masterpiece. 

Kakashi stumbled first, fumbling a couple of the higher trills because he was too focused on Tenzō. The cellist gave no indication he noticed, but with how he adjusted to suit Kakashi’s almost imperceptible shift in tempo, there was no way he couldn’t have. 

As any musician would say, accompanists were supposed to match the performers—accompagnato. The accompanist would slow to match the soloists fermata, would speed up or jump back when they made a mistake, would watch for intakes of breath or flickers of the eyes or other subtle indications to the direction the performer wanted to take the piece. Kakashi was excellent at that; so paranoid that he was observant to a fault, and talented enough to memorize the next few measures in a split-second so he could shift his attention.

Tenzō didn’t lead, but neither did he follow.

He allowed Kakashi to guide the pace, yet his influence over the tone was unmistakable. 

The center section was painful. It was meant to be. It buried deep in Kakashi’s gut, a jagged metal star with sharp points puncturing too many places, drawing blood from all of them. His breath caught in too-small lungs in a too-small room. His attention zeroed in solely on Tenzō, his own hands moving on autopilot as memory and emotion flooded back to him, spurning his fingers with the certainty of love. 

Kakashi had loved this piece once, in the hateful way that all artists love their first creations, those things that are the truest exposure of their darkest moments. He loved it in the way that a smoker loved her last cigarette. In the way that a man loved a gravestone.

He had loved Rin, too. 

Not in the way she wanted.

But he had.

The great crescendo was deafening in the small room. Cement walls reflected sound back from every corner despite the drapes and padded door and carpeted floor. It encompassed Kakashi like the space was filled with steam. Sweat licked at his neck, dampening silver hairs to gray, and Kakashi’s mind became one great chamber of resonance. 

Tenzō made a mistake on one measure, sixteenths where it should have been triplets. They continued with the assurance of momentum. A few smaller mistakes followed, subtle enough that someone who had never heard the piece before likely wouldn’t have noticed. 

Then the ending. 

To Kakashi, it had always been tragic. A plea for penance, but a recognition that it could never be fulfilled. The conclusion wasn’t so much a conclusion at all, but a gaping hole that petered out into a single note on the cello, leaving hollow gaps where the piano had once been. Where Rin had once been. Gaps that could never be filled. 

Tenzō’s ending was different. 

The notes were the same, the timing literally compliant with that on the page, but for the first time, Tenzō took the lead. He maintained the tempo where Kakashi would have slowed it. He separated the final measures into separate, deliberate, thoughtful notions, ideas and dreams contained within each one. 

The final note was written with a diminuendo and a fermata. When Kurenai played it, it had been exactly as Kakashi anticipated: long, withdrawn, a sorrowful reticence to reach the trembling end the listener knew was coming. 

Tenzō’s ending was firm. His bow changed direction multiple times, passing through the note with nearly inaudible change. His vibrato remained steady, never weakening, and at the very end, the very last moment—

There was a tiny increase in volume. Just a few decibels. Just for a moment. 

For that one, inescapable moment, there was the idea of something more. 

A continuation. 

A reprieve.

Kakashi sat in the echo of the last note, fingers stuck with tacky sweat to the keys. 

He realized what was different about Tenzō’s ending. 

He gave name to the interpretation that morphed it so greatly from Kakashi’s original vision. Not in the struggles portrayed—but in their resolutions. 

Kakashi’s _The Path of Life_ was languishing penance. 

Tenzō’s _The Path of Life_ was a hope for redemption.

For endless seconds, they sat in the practice room, silence creeping into the voided space, oppressive and ear-popping and toe-curling. 

Tenzō cleared his throat. 

“Do you think we can do measures forty-three to fifty-seven again? I’ve been having trouble with those triplets when I play with accompaniment.”

It was only when Kakashi’s eye went to the pages to scan for the mentioned section that he realized. He dropped his hands from the keys, fingers clenching on his thighs, sweat bleeding into his jeans. 

Tenzō had the measure numbers memorized, as well. 

“Tenzō… did Hiruzen tell you why he chose this piece for you?”

That wasn’t exactly what Kakashi wanted to ask, but it was what came out of his mouth. 

What he really wanted to know was: 

_”Why did_ you _choose it? I know he gave you a choice. Why_ this _? Why me?”_

Because, in essence, that was what _The Path of Life_ was: Kakashi. 

Only Kakashi had never seen himself so clearly before.

Dark eyes met Kakashi’s, a nebulous emotion swirling in their depths that Kakashi couldn’t define. Tenzō rested his bow across his knees, fingers curling around the neck and rim of his beautiful, carefully attended-to instrument. 

“I brought him _Act of a Coward_ , but he said the tempo was too similar to the other piece he picked.”

 _Act of a Coward_ was one of Kakashi’s published pieces, one he’d done in high school, when Minato-sensei was still his teacher. 

When he was still alive. 

“Did you know who I was?”

Tenzō averted his gaze for a brief moment, the first show of hesitancy since his initial surprise at learning Kakashi’s identity. “Not what you looked like. Neither of us spend much time in this department and you wore a mask when you attended the Spring Recital three years ago.”

Tsunade was teaching at Suna that far back, and Tenzō should have been in high school. There was no reason the recordings should have featured the audience, although Kakashi _had_ been gestured to and asked to stand when Kurenai came on stage. He’d had a sprained wrist and couldn’t play in the actual performance, but he remembered waving lazily from his seat. Tenzō must have been there in person, for whatever reason. 

Kakashi wondered if he had influenced Tenzō’s decision to come to Konoha. Wondered if Tenzō had bought a CD after the performance and listened to it over the last years, if he had gone to Kakashi’s website and bought his music, if he had played _all_ of Kakashi’s published works for cello. If he knew anything of Kakashi’s past, of who _The Path of Life_ was dedicated to. Or if it was Tenzō’s own story that gave Rin’s music a beautiful ending. 

He wondered if Tenzō would tell him that story. 

Tenzō watched him carefully. 

It occurred to Kakashi, like the rumbling crash of a gong, that beneath the steadfast expression, the confident tone, the sure hands, Tenzō was nervous. Waiting for Kakashi’s reaction. He hadn’t planned this, but he not only went along with Genma’s meddling; he revealed so much of himself to do it. The bravery it must have taken to play _The Path of Life_ with Kakashi, on the spot, to yield to Kakashi’s guidance without compromising his own interpretation, to admit the parts he was having difficulty, the self-assurance and honesty and confidence…

Kakashi respected it.

And he wanted to see more. 

Underneath all of that.

He wanted to know the story behind Tenzō’s music.

The story of Tenzō’s hopeful _The Path of Life_.

He wanted to know if Tenzō could find that hope in _Kakashi_ , as well.

“I’ll help you with those measures as long as you want, if you agree to meet me here tomorrow.” Kakashi gave a one-shouldered shrug at Tenzō’s questioning look. His heart pounded in his wrists, mouth running dry with unfamiliar anticipation. “There’s a piece I want you to take a look at. I think… maybe you can help me finish it.”

* * *

**Accompagnato** — The typical style of accompaniment, in which the soloist/main musician(s) lead in tempo and style, and the accompanist follows.  
**Accompanist** — A musician that plays a part considered back-up or supplementary to the main part. Pianists are very commonly used for this, but any instrument can be used to accompany. In a music department of a university, pianists (particularly majors, scholarship students, or sometimes as work study) will be expected to accompany soloists of other instruments.

 **Arpeggiations** — A way of playing notes in a chord in a sequence rather than all at once, similar to a harp.

 **Articulation** — The style or effect with which notes are sounded. It is characterized by emphasis or length or attack and decay, and can entirely change the emotion of a piece. Staccato is one type of articulation.

 **Crescendo** — The loudest point of a gradual increase in volume. 

**D3** — ‘D’ refers to one out of seven musical notes, and “3” refers to the frequency at which it should be played. So combined, D3 is a way to specify one particular key out of the 88 present on a piano.

 **Damper pedal** — A foot pedal that withholds dampeners from strings, meaning that they continue to ring until the pedal is lifted or the note naturally decays, rather than ending when the key stops being depressed.

 **Diminished Fourth** — A particular chord within a key. It is generally considered slightly unsettling.

 **Diminuendo** — A gradual softening of volume.

 **Dissonance** — A tense, sometimes unpleasant, sound deriving from the combination of unharmonious elements. It’s opposite is consonance, in which the notes work harmoniously and agreeably together.

 **Doppio movimento** — Literally means ‘twice as fast as before’.

 **Fermata** — An indication that a note or rest should be prolonged at the discretion of the conductor or performer.

 **Fifths** — An interval between notes. Many stringed instruments are typically tuned with strings set one fifth apart. (C, G, D, A, for cello.)

 **First chord** — The ‘home’ chord in a key signature, generally very pleasant and settling to begin or end on.

 **Impressionist** — A musical movement from the late 19th century that characterized itself by emphasis on emotion, and is often considered ‘colorful’ and ‘fluid’. Claude Debussy is one of the best known composers of this style.

 **Ivory** — Keys on pianofortes used to, occasionally, be made of elephant ivory. Although that is no longer in practice, and other substances such as bone were more common in many places, piano keys are still referred to as ivories.

 **Key Signature** — A set of notes, spaced at certain intervals depending on Major or Minor, in which a piece/section is played unless stated otherwise. Generally, all notes in a key signature will sound ‘correct’ when played in sequence. 

**Major Key** — A set of intervals of which the majority of notes in a piece/section is comprised. Generally, major keys are considered to sound ‘light’ or ‘happy’.

 **Measures** — Small sections into which a piece of music is broken up, typically numbered for easy reference, and dictated in length by the time signature.

 **Minor Key** — A set of intervals of which the majority of notes in a piece/section is comprised. Generally, minor keys are considered to sound ‘sad’ or ‘angry’.

 **Motif** — A short musical phrase that reoccurs within a piece, carrying thematic relevance. 

**Piece** — Purely instrumental arrangements are typically referred to as ‘pieces’, rather than ‘song’ which applies only to pieces of music which include vocals.

 **Romantic** — A musical movement from the 1800’s that is considered individualistic and dramatic. Ludwig van Beethoven is one of the best known composers of this style.

 **Rosin** — A type of resin used on the hair of bows for stringed instruments to generate friction, thus producing vibration and sound. 

**Sight-reading** — Sight-reading is when a musician performs a piece of sheet music at first sight, or prima vista. An extensive knowledge of musical theory can greatly aid in this endeavor, such as understanding of key signatures, chord progressions, and common harmonies. 

**Sixteenths** — A type of note which is played very quickly in relation to other notes in the piece, although the actual length of time varies depending on time signature and beats per minute.

 **Staccato** — A way of articulating notes in which they sound short, abrupt, or separated. 

**Staff paper** — Paper or notebooks printed with empty sets of lines on which a composer may record music. Essentially, ‘blank’ sheet music. 

**Steinway** — Steinway & Sons is a company that has made pianos since the mid-1800’s. They are widely considered some of the best pianos in the world, although all musicians have different preferences, and certain instruments are better suited to different styles or tones.

 **Tighten** — Bows for stringed instruments have a knob on the end that adjusts the tension of the hairs (synthetic or natural). The tension is tightened before playing to increase friction, and loosened before putting back in the case so that the wood of the bow isn’t strained.

 **Time Signature** — A method of notation that indicates how measures should be broken. 

**Triplets** — A tuplet, or a type of note which is played by dividing a measure of time into thirds rather than the more standard bases of two. 

**Vibrato** — A rapid warbling in pitch, used in both vocal and instrumental performances.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to people at the Umino Hours Discord for advice and help with formatting! You guys are awesome. <3


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